


deadlines and commitments

by sightetsound



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M, shameless fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-19
Updated: 2018-12-19
Packaged: 2019-09-23 02:29:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,759
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17071769
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sightetsound/pseuds/sightetsound
Summary: “Billy, I said I’m sorry. Please open the door,” he asked, eyes closing as he heaved a sigh. “I know I fucked up.”A beat of silence. Steve turned his back and slid to the floor to slump uselessly against the locked door separating him from his boyfriend.“Dinner looks good,” he offered lamely, turning his head towards the door to listen in again. “Didn’t even know we had candlesticks lying around. Are thoserealrose petals on the table?”or: in which Steve finds himself in the hot seat on his anniversary and Christmas Eve both.





	deadlines and commitments

**Author's Note:**

  * For [womenseemwicked](https://archiveofourown.org/users/womenseemwicked/gifts).



> Happy holidays to all, and special greetings to [womenseemwicked](https://archiveofourown.org/users/womenseemwicked/pseuds/womenseemwicked/works)!  
> I hope with all my heart you enjoy these bickering boys.  
> Special thanks to [uncaringerinn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/uncaringerinn/pseuds/uncaringerinn) for the greatest goddamn name for a throwaway character.

“Wasn’t wrong to hire you, kid,” Steve’s boss said with a hearty pat on the back that was meant to be friendly but definitely came off as aggressive, “Despite what your dad said.”

“Thanks,” Steve managed, expression carefully blank as he shuffled papers into their respective folders to later be filed away into the cabinet.

“Not many young folks like to work these long hours,” The middle-aged man continued, sipping coffee that, from the potent smell alone, had been spiked with something closer to gasoline than alcohol, “You work overtime without a complaint! You’re a credit to your generation, Steve. Respectful and disciplined! Not at all like most boys your age, what with the ruckus they call music and the long hair – or worse, those _mullets_.” 

Head ducked safely out of view, Steve smiled, thinking of his partner waiting for him at home who matched that description toe-to-tip. 

Waiting. At home.

Steve looked up at his boss, eyes wide and mouth slack, and was suddenly made acutely aware of the ticking clock on the wall behind him. 

“Mr. McKenzie, what time is it?”

“Call me Stud, kid, I’ve told you before—”

“I _really_ am not comfortable with that, so—”

“It’s going on nine. If you’ve got a date, you’re free to go; you’ve done more than enough work for tonight.”

“Thanks, Mr. McKenzie!” Steve called, practically tripping on himself in his haste to get up and out.

“It’s Stud!” he heard just before the door slammed shut behind him.

—

“Shit,” Steve chanted for what felt like the fiftieth time as he half-jogged in his shitty Oxfords that were not meant to be run in. “Shit!” 

Try as he might to come up with a reasonable apology, he knew he was fucked. Honestly, he couldn't even blame Billy, and he knows he’d be just as pissed if the roles were reversed. Except, he considers guiltily, that Billy would never make a mistake like this. 

He paused for a second as he approached a venue that he’s been to before with Billy, eye caught by one poster in a sea of ads for upcoming shows, one that was larger and with a band name recognizable even to Steve.

Steve dove into the bar, wallet already in hand.

This would _surely_ get him back into Billy’s good graces. 

—

It did not get him back into Billy’s good graces.

Steve stared at the bedroom door that had been unceremoniously slammed in his face, the two proffered tickets still in hand. He leaned forward, pressing his forehead to the thin wood door.

“Baby,” Steve attempted, listening for any signs of stirring from within their shared bedroom. “Babe?” 

“Fuck off, Harrington!”

Steve tried the doorknob that had, of course, been locked. He stopped jiggling the handle when the door shook with something that had been thrown at it from the other side.

“Billy, I said I’m sorry. Please open the door,” he asked, eyes closing as he heaved a sigh. “I know I fucked up.” 

A beat of silence. Steve turned his back and slid to the floor to slump uselessly against the locked door separating him from his boyfriend.

“Dinner looks good,” he offered lamely, turning his head towards the door to listen in again. “Didn’t even know we had candlesticks lying around. Are those _real_ rose petals on the table?”

Billy had done up their flimsy card table like something out of a fancy restaurant. Just for him, ‘cause he knew Steve liked that romantic shit. He even had a bottle of wine chilling in a sink full of ice. 

His heart sank when he saw it. 

“I missed you all day. Kept busy thinking it would make the time pass quicker. Didn’t even check the time ‘cause I knew once I started, I wouldn’t stop and the day would drag. Couldn’t wait to be home.”

A suspicious sounding _hic_ made Steve sit upright, blinking wide eyes at the door. 

“Are you crying?”

“No. Leave me alone.” 

“You _are_ , I hear it in your voice! You get all sniffly, and I bet you have that red raccoon mask going, it’s so cute—”

“I’m not _cute_ , you asshole, go the fuck away.”

“You want me to call you ugly instead?”

Steve winced when something heavier than before struck the door.

“I’m sorry, that was a bad joke. Will you please let me in?” Steve shifted to his feet when he heard the floorboards creak as though Billy was approaching. “Billy?”

He heard the doorknob click, and when he tried the door again, it opened. He stepped inside to see Billy standing there just a few feet away, eyes made bluer by unshed tears, and his face, as Steve predicted, reddened. 

He had his arms around him before he knew he moved, face pressed against his hair that smelled like Billy’s shampoo with a hint of Farrah Fawcett hairspray. He’d never not smile at the memory of finding out that Billy made the switch under the guise of saving money by them using the same product. 

Billy didn’t yet hug him back, but Steve could work with that. Had learned by now that if Billy permitted affection, he could be talked to. Steve stepped back to look into those stormy blue eyes.

“I should’ve been paying closer attention to the time. I promised you I’d be home by six at the latest, and I screwed that up entirely. And–… I know you were upset McKenzie—”

“Stud.”

“ _God_ – just– _no_. Let me say this.” Steve begged, but he couldn’t be too upset with how his own boyfriend conspired against him because of the smallest of smiles that pulled at Billy’s mouth. “I know you were upset I was scheduled today at all. Christmas Eve and all, but more importantly…” 

Cautiously, Steve took Billy’s hand in his free one. When Billy didn’t show any signs of not wanting to hold hands, he laced their fingers together.

“Two years now. Our first full year in Chicago. Your first full year of college done.” 

Billy’s gaze dropped, and Steve squeezed his hand to get his attention back. 

“Hey… I’m proud of you. I knew you could do it, and that’s why I work the hours I do. I’m not– I’m not justifying why I’m late, that was entirely on me, but… I want to give you every opportunity your piece of shit dad denied you. I want you to have money, and–”

“I don’t care about the money, Harrington. So long as our bills are paid, and we have food, I don’t give a _shit_ –” Billy pulled his hand from Steve’s, brow furrowed. “I fucking told you before we moved that I didn’t want you to carry my weight, and look at us.”

“What’s wrong with us?” Steve asked, breath bated.

“We’re turning into your parents! You make good money, so you put your effort into work instead of _us_ even though you hate that job. I want your _time_ , not expensive gifts!” Billy smacked the tickets out of Steve’s hand, and Steve watched them fall to the floor.

“I want… you. Here. With me.”

“Billy…”

“I know you do it to help me, alright? I _know_. And I’m fucking grateful that you’re so goddamn supportive of me getting educated or whatever, but I don’t _want it_ at the expense of us. I’d rather work and help pay bills than put all that stress on you.”

“Yeah, but you don’t need the stress of work on top of school.”

“I lived with my asshole dad eighteen years, Steve, I can handle a part time job and classes. Y’know, he–” Billy paused to sniff, and to angrily wipe his wet eyes with his wrists. “He said only reason I was running off with you was because you had money, I ever tell you that?”

“That fucking _dick_ –”

“Said he knew your type, that you’d make me your _kept boy_ until you fucked off and found a _wife_.”

“ _What?_ Billy, you don’t think I–”

“I _don’t_ , but I didn’t think we’d be in this situation, either! When’s the last time you and I had a night in together, huh? Uninterrupted by fuckin’ studies or your idiot boss calling because he can’t find his own ass?” Billy smoothed his hair back out of frustration, breathing deep and hard in an attempt to level his temper.

“I’m sorry,” Steve said quietly, throat clicking on a swallow. “I didn’t think… I didn’t even _realize_ … Working that much to make sure we were making it became so routine, and I–. I’m sorry.”

“It’s–” Billy sighed harshly, shaking his head, “It’s not _fine_ , but it is what it is. Our parents fucked us up. Neither of us know how to _talk_.”

“I like the way you talk,” Steve offered, smiling weakly. “University looks good on you. Smart, and– _fuck_ , Billy. I’m so sorry, I should’ve been paying closer attention. _You_ – our relationship – is what matters to me, not that fucking job.”

“Funny way of showing it,” Billy groused, but he reached out to tug Steve closer by his shirt. “How do we fix this?” he asked in a whisper, face tucked against Steve’s throat. 

“Well,” Steve began, sliding arms around Billy’s waist to hold him comfortably, “We eat dinner and have some wine, to start.” He pressed a kiss to the side of Billy’s hair, remaining close to nestle his face in wild curls. “Celebrate our anniversary. Then… I change my work availability, or I start looking for a new job.”

“I’ll look, too.” 

“If it’ll make you feel like things are more equal between us, baby. Whatever you want. But if it’s too much–”

“I have you.”

“Yeah, you really do.” 

“ _Quit_ , we’re talking about shit,” Billy complained, but Steve could hear the smile in his voice.

He pulled back and tipped Billy’s chin up so that he could see it for himself, knew that he looked dopey with his own lovestruck smile in place. 

“Can’t help it,” Steve whispered, leaning close to brush their lips together. “You make me like this.” 

“Then what?”

“Then we talk more, even when it’s uncomfortable. Even though we’re bad at it.” Steve nudged his nose against Billy’s then pressed their foreheads together. “ _Especially_ because we’re bad at it.” 

“And then?”

“I return every gift I got you. Like those Alice in Chains tickets on the floor.”

Billy was silent for a moment, and Steve smiled against his mouth when he did speak a moment later, soft and tentative.

“...maybe not those.” 

“I didn’t think so. Happy anniversary, baby.”


End file.
